The fake Comelec constitutional crisis
How did Twitter lead to dubious media reports that 37-year-old IT lawyer Al Parreño’s appointment to the Commission on Elections was unconstitutional? Why do reporters corroborate sources out of paranoia, yet are hesitant to check the text of the Constitution that we are required to read in high school?
The fake constitutional crisis began when one Rod Vera engaged Abigail Valte and James Jimenez, Malacañang and Comelec spokespersons, respectively, on Twitter, invoking the nonexistent constitutional requirement that a lawyer appointed as a Comelec commissioner must have been a lawyer for at least 10 years. Vera alleged that Parreño’s appointment violated the Constitution because he joined the bar only in 2004. Key news websites immediately quoted Vera, and one retweeted headline read: “Comelec commissioner Al Parreño’s appointment unconstitutional, says law professor.” The Comelec chair and the President himself were soon asked to comment.
I quote the Constitution’s Article IX-C, Section 1: “[A] majority [of the Comelec], including the Chairman, shall be members of the Philippine Bar who have been engaged in the practice of law for at least ten years.” This requirement regarding the Comelec as a whole was already met prior to Parreño’s appointment because four out of seven commissioners were lawyers with the required experience. The Constitution does not require that each commissioner be a lawyer or that each lawyer have the 10 years’ experience.
The alleged constitutional crisis could readily be verified as fake by checking the Constitution’s text, whether through Google or by dusting off one’s high school social sciences textbook. It is surprising that the Twitter exchanges were perceived as credible. Vera was quoted as a professor of intellectual property law at the Polytechnic University of the Philippines, yet the relevant subject is constitutional law. Vera’s further comments seemed outlandish. When Valte tried to explain by asking Vera to consider Parreño appointed as a nonlawyer (again, because the actual requirement was already met by the other lawyer-commissioners), he tweeted that Parreño should not sign any legal opinions as commissioner. Yet although Vera’s claims contradicted the Constitution’s actual text, not even the Inquirer (which gave Vera’s claims zero prominence) could ignore the story after the President and the Comelec chair commented.
This lamentable comedy of errors underscores a crucial blind spot: Reporters do not feel comfortable paraphrasing or even filtering legal material. Arguably, some would be more comfortable quoting a law professor’s Twitter posts, even a professor of a field irrelevant to the story.
This is ironic because the Constitution stands out as the layman’s document. It is our highest source of law yet intended to be read by the least educated of citizens. It is supposed to be the most accessible of legal texts, to be the one that empowers the humblest of men to cry “free speech” or “separation of church and state.” Thus, no special education is required to read the Constitution. It is not a set of mysterious incantations over which lawyers have a monopoly as the priests of a secular religion.
Vera’s cruel joke on the media aside, news coverage has muddled legal issues in more crucial contexts. During oral arguments on the Cybercrime Law, the media focused on justices’ policy questions, such as the argument that the law is necessary to protect the cyberbullied, such as Chris Lao. Unfortunately, these were the most irrelevant questions, as a law’s wisdom has nothing to do with its validity. Wisdom and policy are left to Congress, not the courts.
The media’s tone regarding the Cybercrime Law may have led to an undue focus on cyberlibel, at the expense of educating the public on key technical issues. The focus on cyberlibel was problematic because it gave an impression that Internet libel was not punishable before the Cybercrime Law. Many citizens remain unaware that ongoing cyberlibel criminal prosecutions, including one that reached the Court of Appeals and involved teenage squabbles on Multiply.com, are under the circa-1930 Revised Penal Code.
When I asked investigative journalist Marites Vitug to sign my copies of her books on our Supreme Court, I reminded her that some of the most widely quoted books in American legal academia were actually written by journalists, such as Arthur Schlesinger’s “The Imperial Presidency.” As an Inquirer reader since childhood, I am proud that one of its judicial beat reporters actually pursued a law degree and it regularly publishes editorials that tackle legal issues with great insight. It has the strongest legal columnists: Joaquin Bernas, SJ, former Chief Justice Artemio Panganiban and, until recently, former law dean Raul Pangalangan. There remains much untapped potential, however, in journalists’ ability to facilitate intelligent discussion of legal issues that ultimately bind the citizenry.
As for Commissioner Parreño, hopefully the accidental fame from the fake constitutional crisis gives him a platform to discuss how the Comelec will navigate computerized elections.
And as for Professor Vera, perhaps he should abstain from Twitter until he writes “I will read the Constitution before commenting” 1,000 times on his blackboard.
Oscar Franklin Tan (www.facebook.com/OscarFranklinTan, Twitter @oscarfbtan) teaches constitutional law at the University of the East. He received the first Justice Vicente V. Mendoza legal writing prize for party-list system research (The Party-List System Revisited, 82[3] PHIL. L.J. 181 [2008]), which he began in 2002 as a freshman.
